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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23183542">have pity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/meshizuru/pseuds/meshizuru'>meshizuru</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Another Episode</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Begging, Collars, Face-Fucking, Insults, Lap Sex, M/M, Master/Servant, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Self-Hatred, an overuse of the word pathetic i think</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:20:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,092</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23183542</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/meshizuru/pseuds/meshizuru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"This situation has become something Komaeda is accustomed to, something familiar. He often wonders why Kamukura took pity on him like this, when he could truly spend his time with anyone. Enoshima, after all, seemed to take interest in him…but Komaeda would be lying if he said he wasn’t satisfied with having stolen the spotlight from her."</p><p>ive found that im apparently awful at writing the actual sex part but better at writing foreplay. not sure what to do with this<br/>also i'm glad that, collectively, as a fandom, we agree that the whole 77-B and kamukura being forced to forget each other is the stupidest fucking plot point let kamukura and komaeda FUCK</p><p>anyways im pretty certain im garbage at writing nsfw but i do it anyways, so take this because there's seriously not enough kamukoma smut out there wtf</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>361</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>have pity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Pathetic.”</p><p> </p><p>A laugh, squeaky and irritating, rasps at Komaeda’s throat, feeling himself tremble beneath Kamukura’s gaze. The way he looks at him, as if he’s dirt beneath his shoe, unimportant, insignificant—Komaeda has never been able to contain himself with Kamukura’s deep, red eyes on him. </p><p> </p><p>This situation has become something Komaeda is accustomed to, something familiar. He often wonders why Kamukura took pity on him like this, when he could truly spend his time with anyone. Enoshima, after all, seemed to take interest in him…but Komaeda would be lying if he said he wasn’t satisfied with having stolen the spotlight from her.</p><p> </p><p>“Kamukura-sama…”</p><p> </p><p>“Be quiet. Your voice is irritating,” he cuts him off, cocking his head back, and looking at him down his nose. Komaeda is on his knees, as if worshipping a deity, clamoring at Kamukura’s feet with a desperation so easily felt while in his presence. He grasps at his pant leg, knowing his actions to be truly deplorable, to be so beyond what he is deserving, and should thank the God sitting before him when he presses his shoe to Komaeda’s chest and pushes him away roughly.</p><p> </p><p>Komaeda falls back on his ass, but he hardly moves, still gazing up at Kamukura with wonder. He stares him down silently, a judging glint hidden within his eyes. He crosses one leg over the other, and rests his chin on the back of his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s pathetic how desperate you are.”</p><p> </p><p>Komaeda laughs again, a crazed grin spreading across his face. “You should know by now, Kamukura-sama, I have always been pathetic,” he tells him, a smirk remaining as he looks up at him. </p><p> </p><p>There’s more silence, and after a long moment of what feels like Kamukura picking him apart, unnervingly dissecting every inch of Komaeda. It sends a shiver down his spine, and only makes him more eager for what he desires. As if able to tell, Kamukura shifts in his seat. He places both his feet on the ground once more, and Komaeda has trouble not noticing how his legs have spread. He bites his lip.</p><p> </p><p>“Come here.”</p><p> </p><p>The command is simple, it’s stern, and it’s incredibly easy to follow. Komaeda clamors forward, crawling back up to him, noting how Kamukura has extended his other hand, beckoning him forward in a short movement. He’s reluctant to touch him this time, and his hand wavers above his knee.</p><p> </p><p>“Sir, may I…” Komaeda trails off quietly, and is met with a short agreement. He places his trembling hands on Kamukura’s knees, but doesn’t stretch up to get closer like he wishes to. But Kamukura seems to fulfill the request for him, reaching down to grab the chain weighing down on his neck, and pulling him up closer.</p><p> </p><p>“You know what you’re good for,” Kamukura begins, his voice slow, deep, reaching that octave that makes Komaeda want to moan from simply hearing it. “Yet, you’re sitting here uselessly, as if you really want to wait for my command.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not deserving, Kamukura-sama,” Komaeda breathes, his fingers digging into the fabric of his trousers. “I shouldn’t so much as look at you without your permission. I’m worthless filth, you shouldn’t even give me your time-”</p><p> </p><p>Kamukura elects to silencing him by roughly yanking his chain. It makes Komaeda tremble with want.</p><p> </p><p>“Beg for it, then.”</p><p> </p><p>This time Komaeda can’t stop the moan before it leaves his throat, and he swears he can see some flicker of emotion in Kamukura’s eyes at the sound. </p><p> </p><p>“Please, Kamukura-sama, please, I…” he begins, as if his pathetic desperation has stolen any coherent thought from his mind. He moves his hands up his thighs, grasping at them, and thinks himself impudent for the touch. “I want to please you, I want you to use me how you wish, please… It is all I am deserving of, to serve you, to be a tool for your pleasure, Kamukura-sama…”</p><p> </p><p>His miserable rambling is interrupted when he feels Kamukura’s fingers seize his chin, directing his gaze upward to meet his eyes. Komaeda hadn’t even noticed his gaze had drifted down, but it was just like his wretched self to immediately seek out what he so selfishly desired.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re terrible at begging,” he reprimands, his thumb swiping over Komaeda’s lip. “You should use your pathetic little mouth for something more worth it’s time.”</p><p> </p><p>Komaeda feels his mouth water, and his body shudders with anticipation, with lust, with desperation. He is truly disgusting, he thinks. The world crumbles around him, torn apart by despair, and here he kneels, grasping desperately at the hem of Kamukura’s trousers, devoting himself to the incarnation of Hope, to the man he loves and has no right to.</p><p> </p><p>Trembling, frail fingers finally undo the zipper, and he tugs the pants down along with Kamukura’s briefs, and he has to keep himself from drooling. Komaeda wishes he could spend the rest of his life like this, put in his place where he belongs, worshipping Kamukura as he is intended to. It’s pathetic how easily he falls apart—just the sight of his cock, half-hard before him, making him lose his mind.</p><p> </p><p>He feels an insistent hand in his hair, pushing him toward his goal, and Komaeda can’t help but lick his lips. Gently, he wraps his fingers around the base of Kamukura’s cock, feeling him relax where he sits and keep his hand in his messy hair. He strokes slowly, teasingly, as if testing the waters in an act he knows he’s partaken more times than he’d care to keep count of. There’s a harsh tug in response, forcing Komaeda to look up at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Quit taking your time,” Kamukura chides. “It’s annoying.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Annoying</em>, Komaeda thinks, humming in the back of his throat. <em> That’s better than boring</em>. Still, he’s in no position to disobey Kamukura and never has been—so he dips his head down, fitting his lips around the head of his cock. He feels the grip in his hair tighten, which only encourages him as he slowly takes his length deeper into his mouth, moaning softly against his cock.</p><p> </p><p>He moves his mouth over his length, taking him deeper and deeper, slowly, easing his cock down his throat; his tongue teasing him, even as he took him far enough to gag, moving his mouth over his cock in a decent rhythm, pleasuring Kamukura in any way he could. He strove to better his pathetic abilities, in hopes that perhaps he could elicit a strong reaction from Kamukura one day, but he knew it was far more likely that his measly skills were nothing to him. Still, he could cling to the hope that perhaps he could be useful, worth even something to Kamukura…</p><p> </p><p>He feels Kamukura’s fingers trail to the back of his head, moving through his messy hair, both hands planted in the white fluff atop his head. The grip suddenly tightens, holding him still, before pushing him down. Kamukura’s hips raise slightly in the throne he sits atop, pushing his cock in deeper, until Komaeda feels his nose brush against the wiry curls at the base. He chokes, gagging on his length for a moment, an unpleasant noise as his throat spasms and he struggles to return his breath through his nose. Then, he relaxes, his hands grasping loosely at Kamukura’s suit pants, cupping his thighs as he starts to thrust slowly, fucking his mouth far too gently for Komaeda’s liking. </p><p> </p><p>So he whines desperately.</p><p> </p><p>“Fitting that you would find pleasure in something like this,” Kamukura mutters, with a rough thrust, making Komaeda gag again. “And all too predictable. You’re a whore, it wouldn’t require a genius to figure you would like being used like this.”</p><p> </p><p>Another whine, and Komaeda can feel the drool dribbling down his chin, making a mess of himself. He feels Kamukura stand up, mouth still around his cock, and then his pace gets quicker, rougher, abusing his throat mercilessly, and Komaeda has no desire to complain. This is what he wants. His grip on his hair is so tight it hurts, and he’s starting to lose his breath, but he wants this...to be used, thoroughly fucked into a mess by the man he loves more than anything… He moans against his cock, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Kamukura pulls out, and Komaeda collapses backward into a coughing fit. He hears Kamukura settle back in his seat, looking up to see his legs still spread, pants unbuttoned and cock hard and leaking, slick with his own spit. He trembles, a quiet, needy noise bubbling up his throat as he crawls back toward him.</p><p> </p><p>“Kamukura-sama…” he pleads, not sure what exactly for, but mostly for reprieve. He rubs his thighs together, his painfully tight jeans making his situation even more unbearable. His voice is hoarse and comes out cracking from the abuse to his throat. He licks his lips. “Kamukura-sama, please…”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a tug to his chain again.</p><p> </p><p>“Get up.”</p><p> </p><p>Komaeda rises to his feet, shakily so, and feels he might fall over if Kamukura isn’t gracious enough to relieve him of this.</p><p> </p><p>“Strip. Don’t take your time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, sir,” Komaeda obliges with a soft, squeaky laugh, trembling hands grasping at the waistband of his tight jeans, easing them down alongside his undergarments. After some struggle, he pulls his sweater off, folding it all neatly off to the side, his collar still remaining. It’s not as if he could take it off, anyways, the key in possession of the man before him; he gently drags his fingers along the cool metal, feeling it bite at his sickly pale skin, and decides he quite <em> likes </em> having it on and nothing else, so there’s not a shred of complaint in him. </p><p> </p><p>Kamukura’s next order is silent, his hand smoothing over his lap, the other beckoning him with a short movement of his fingers. Komaeda is far too affected by such a calm, detached request, as his knees practically give out beneath him, and he eagerly crawls over to Kamukura’s feet. He feels him grip his chain again, pulling him up, and quickly gets the hint—he climbs into his lap, resting his lithe arms over his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“Kamukura-sama…”</p><p> </p><p>“Say something more than just my name, otherwise you sound annoying,” Kamukura mutters, guiding Komaeda’s by his jaw and pulling him in close. His free hand ghosts over his trembling thigh, hardly touching him, but it makes a shudder shoot up Komaeda’s spine. He whimpers.</p><p> </p><p>“Please, I… don’t you want to use me for more than just my mouth, Kamukura-sama?” his voice is trembling, like the rest of him. “I haven’t earned it, I’m not deserving, but please… please…”</p><p> </p><p>Komaeda leans back, feeling Kamukura’s cock beneath him, and thoughtlessly, he rubs against it, hoping to convince Kamukura to have pity on him and give him everything he doesn’t deserve. Instead, he feels a harsh tug against his head, before he can even register the hand in his hair, and he lets out a piercing gasp.</p><p> </p><p>“Pathetic,” Kamukura repeats, his red eyes boring into him, as if disappointed by the debauching display before him. But Komaeda doesn’t relent, given there was no order to, and rubs his ass against him more desperately. He watches Kamukura’s eyes drift down, fixating on the contact between them. “I’d almost feel sorry for you, but I know you feel no shame for how pitiful you are.”</p><p> </p><p>Komaeda is beyond being able to speak, he just moans, but it’s not as if he’d have time to speak, anyways. Before the noise can fully leave his throat, he feels an insistent pair of lips on his own, biting at his lip. His own eyes are half-lidded, hazy, and Kamukura’s don’t close. It’s something he’s noticed, in their many encounters like this, he never takes his eyes off Komaeda, not even when they kiss. He wonders, sometimes, if it means something more, or if it’s simply how Kamukura is. </p><p> </p><p>He lets his own eyes slip shut, whining against his mouth as his tongue invades his own. He feels a tug to his collar, and a hand at his hip, both pulling him in closer. Finally, <em> finally</em>, he can feel Kamukura’s hips move beneath him, grinding up against him, and it makes him want to lose his mind.</p><p> </p><p>It’s over as quickly as it began, though, and his lips withdraw from his own. Kamukura stares at him, unreadable as always. Then, he presses his fingers to his lips.</p><p> </p><p>“Open.”</p><p> </p><p>Komaeda doesn’t need to be told twice.</p><p> </p><p>He parts his lips, still puffy and red from being abused and kissed, letting Kamukura slip his two fingers inside, pressing against his tongue. Komaeda whines, licking at them, sucking, feeling them go deeper, but it's not enough. He struggles to keep his hands to himself, wanting to grab Kamukura's wrist and keep him there, to push his fingers deeper. It would be beyond what he should even be allowed, far too impudent for someone like him, and he idly wishes Kamukura would bind his wrists.</p><p> </p><p>Kamukura's brows furrow slightly, watching Komaeda suck on his fingers as if trying to please them, desperate and filthy, and likely disgusting, he imagines. The sight must be awful for him, but he truly can't help himself. He's far too pathetic for someone like Kamukura.</p><p> </p><p>"That's enough."</p><p> </p><p>Though it fills him with disappointment, Komaeda withdraws, a thin line of spit drawn between them. He licks his lips, his hands set on his thighs, though every impulse in him wants to bury fingers in silky, black strands and pull him in close. He exhibits some restraint for now, knowing how Kamukura values such a thing from him.</p><p> </p><p>A hand settles on his thigh again, and the now debauched hand reaches behind him, feeling a wet prod at his entrance. Komaeda lifts his hips, making it easier, before he feels a push, and lets out a high-pitched whine.</p><p> </p><p>Any measly semblance of composure is gone. Komaeda leans on Kamukura, as if every part of him has gone numb, feeling his fingers push deeper. By now, Kamukura knows <em> just </em> what to do. But he still tortures him. He makes it slow, thrusting his fingers uselessly, drawing out pathetic whines and begs from Komaeda, before he presses up against <em> that </em> spot, twisting his wrist, and driving it deeper. He knows well what he's doing, so much so that Komaeda has trouble keeping himself together, having come before just from this, not even a ghost of touch to his cock. It's pathetic, but anything Kamukura does would make him seem infinitely so in comparison. </p><p> </p><p>It’s a wonder he’s even receiving this. More often than not, Kamukura makes him do this bit of work, watching him closely as he prepares himself. Komaeda <em> much </em> prefers it when Kamukura does it, since he’s infinitely better than he could ever be, but it’s a gift, in his mind, and one he does not deserve.</p><p> </p><p>He buries his head in the crook of his neck, lolling over to rest on his shoulder, filthy, desperate noises spilling from his lips. Kamukura looks as bored as ever, watching him squirm and writhe in his lap, while his fingers spread him open.</p><p> </p><p>"You couldn't keep yourself together even if you tried," Kamukura notes, his voice flat and smooth, dropping to an octave that makes him shiver, but he doesn't take his eyes off Komaeda. The white-haired boy's expression twists up, mouth open wide and panting desperately, drool dribbling down his chin, and his eyes half-lidded and hazy, with flushed, pink cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>"I-It's not my fault you're so good at making me fall apart, Kamukura-sama…" Komaeda laughs through his squeaky, eager moans, unable to keep his hand from clutches at Kamukura's shoulder desperately. "But I'm to blame for my worthless display…"</p><p> </p><p>"Be quiet, you're much less irritating when you don't speak," Kamukura says gruffly, pressing his fingers inside him roughly against that spot, making Komaeda give a shrill whine. He can't find it in him to form words as he perfectly, meticulously works his fingers inside him, makes him fall apart...all he can do is cry and moan. He feels like he'll crumble any moment now, despite his attempts to keep it in, and then…</p><p> </p><p>He feels a loss, and a wet touch to his thigh. Kamukura has withdrawn his fingers, now wiping them off on him. He lets out a whine so pathetic he regrets it as soon as it leaves him, feeling shame for his complaint. As if he has any right to.</p><p> </p><p>Kamukura’s hands settle on his hips, pulling him forward and crashing his lips against his once more, rough, teeth clicking before they settle into a proper kiss. Again, his eyes bore into him, and Komaeda feels as if a chill has shot down his spine. Desperation fills his veins, and he claws at his suit jacket, gripping the fabric with a whine into his mouth, his hips squirming.</p><p> </p><p>He feels Kamukura push between his ass, but he doesn’t enter him like he wants, instead teasing him with something so close, but not <em> enough</em>… but, despite his greed, he still gives way to lust, even this bit of contact making him moan.</p><p> </p><p>Kamukura withdraws his lips from his. Komaeda wonders if his moan was truly that disgusting, and thinks it likely was. But—</p><p> </p><p>“Beg.”</p><p> </p><p>Komaeda moans again, shivering from head to toe. He thinks he might collapse. </p><p> </p><p>“Kamukura-sama,” he nearly <em> sobs</em>, his lips wet with drool. He licks them, unable to keep his filthy hands from moving to Kamukura’s hair, tangling up in the long, ebony strands that felt like silk between his fingers, leaning in close. He wished, idly, that Kamukura would cut his hands at the wrist, so he would never touch him out of line like this again, but he didn't stop himself. “I’m not deserving, but please… please…” he pleaded, arching his back and grinding himself down against Kamukura’s length. “ <em> Fuck me</em>. Use me... <em> please</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He hears a sharp intake of breath from the other. He wants to cry with delight, trembling at the slightest reaction from Kamukura. He must be <em> truly lucky</em>…</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just a tool for your pleasure...so please use me as you see fit, Kamukura-sama…”</p><p> </p><p>Kamukura’s hand lifted from his hip, pinching his chin between his thumb and forefinger, swiping over his bottom lip. He remained silent, and the look in his eyes seemed to demand more from him. Komaeda parted his lips and drew in a shaky breath, a quiet whimper escaping his lips before he could really stop it.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s all I’m good for, Kamukura-sama. To please you, to worship you, so please… use me how you want. Derive pleasure from my worthless body.”</p><p> </p><p>There's a moment of silence, and Kamukura's eyes scan him, wandering over his face. There's a flicker of emotion. Komaeda wonders if it might be satisfaction.</p><p> </p><p>“Good boy.”</p><p> </p><p>The moan that escapes him is pathetic, wanton, desperate. <em> Praise</em>, from Kamukura, something he’s certainly undeserving of, but it still tears him apart and leaves him as puddy in Kamukura’s hands. He’s a servant, always has been, and always will be, and to him, serving the Ultimate Hope like this is exactly where he belongs. The universe crafted him for this purpose alone, to be a pathetic, frail worshipper clamoring at the feet of his deity.</p><p> </p><p>Before he can do anything himself, Kamukura’s hand still resting at his hip grips him tightly, positioning him just as he wants. He doesn’t protest, why would he? No matter what, he’d let Kamukura push him around and do what he wanted with him. And if he’s getting rewarded in the process…</p><p> </p><p>The rough, almost unpleasant burn is anything but to Komaeda. It hurts, but that’s what he <em> wants </em> . He was certain Kamukura knew this by now, that he much preferred spit to lube, pain to comfort. He was pathetically easy to read, he assumed, especially to the likes of <em> Kamukura</em>. The grip on his hip becomes tight enough to bruise, and Komaeda wishes it would. The honor of being marked by the God he is perched in the lap of, is all he could ever hope for.</p><p> </p><p>“Relax,” Kamukura complains, easing his cock in deeper. Komaeda didn’t even realize he’d tensed up as he did, but he trembles and tries to relax, though it’s hard to be any sort of calm around Kamukura.</p><p> </p><p>He buries himself to the hilt, and Komaeda moans pathetically, rolling his hips and feeling him in every way that he can. But Kamukura doesn’t move, still as ever. He rests back in the throne he sits upon, an expectant look on his otherwise bored expression. Even in this position, Komaeda still feels as if he’s looking <em> down </em> on him. It racks his body with a pleasant shiver.</p><p> </p><p>“Go on.”</p><p> </p><p>He punctuates his demand with a tug of the heavy chain around his neck, which makes Komaeda snap from his daze, pressing and rolling his hips once more. Lithe arms, trembling with want, circle around Kamukura’s neck, enveloped in his long waves of hair, and propping him up to balance.</p><p> </p><p>“Kamukura-sama…” he whines, raising himself till he’s nearly empty again, before sinking back down with a moan. “Kamukura-sama, you feel so good...I feel complete with your cock inside m-”</p><p> </p><p>“Be quiet,” he snaps, pulling on his collar so Komaeda’s lips brush up against his. “Your voice is grating.”</p><p> </p><p>Before Komaeda can say anything more, his lips are on his again, effectively silencing him. Kamukura drinks in his moans as he starts to fuck himself on his cock, thighs trembling as he rhythmically bounces in his lap. There’s a bit of sloppiness from him, a bit of weakness as he strains his legs, but he’s doing all that he can to please Kamukura, and selfishly satiate his own needs.</p><p> </p><p>After a while of his own pathetic ministrations, Kamukura seemingly grows tired and grabs Komaeda, snapping his hips up and sending his cock in deeper and rougher than he’d been able to reach. Komaeda cries out, keening and throwing his head back with the noise. A quiet laugh escapes him, mixed in with his whimpers, but it turns to more moans when Kamukura repeats the motion, a tight grip on his hip bone.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re far too slow at this,” he chides, voice even and unwavering despite the position they’ve found themselves in. “By now, I’d assume you’d be better, but you’re still a lowly slut, unable to even pleasure me properly without help.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s no response Komaeda can muster, other than to lean his weight Kamukura, and let himself be fucked and used. He has half the mind to keep raising his hips to weakly meet his thrusts, but eventually the grip on side makes him still, so that Kamukura can properly fuck him. Komaeda is beyond it, and he rests his head on the other’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>He feels a pair of lips on the exposed part of his neck, and he’s almost certain he has to be dreaming. Then he feels sucking, and teeth puncture the sensitive, ghastly skin over his pulse. Komaeda can only keep making the same pathetic noises that haven’t stopped spilling from his lips while Kamukura marks his neck and then moves to his collarbone with precise movements, as if he’s memorized all the weak points on Komaeda’s body. He wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the case.</p><p> </p><p>It’s all so much...feeling his lips leave bruises, Kamukura’s hips slam up against his own, and the tug of his collar whenever he feels he should be reigned in. He’s so close. He feels that tightness in his abdomen, feels the heat trickle up and down his body, feels like he’s about to snap. And then-</p><p> </p><p>“Do not cum.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Nng</em>,” Komaeda whines, disappointment laced in the noise. But it’s so hard. How can he possibly resist the urge to lose himself right now? “That’s not <em> fair</em>, Kamukura-sama…” he complains, and wishes he would punish him for such disobedience.</p><p> </p><p>But he knows fully well that Kamukura likes to test him like this. Endurance, for one, is something Komaeda is quite pathetic with. He recalls how <em> easy </em> it was for him to come undone the first time he had the honor of doing this with Kamukura, and he’d gone and made a fool of himself with his pathetic stamina. In his mind, however, it's impossible to not crumble beneath Kamukura's ministrations, when every single touch ignites his skin, everything he does is perfect, targeting all his weak points. Kamukura <em> knows </em>what he's doing, and knows it well, more than any other soul on this earth.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't care. Keep yourself together until I give you permission" Kamukura orders, watching him intently, snapping his hips up and pressing deep, his thrusting relentless, quick, and rough. "Otherwise it'd be disappointing."</p><p> </p><p>Komaeda is too far gone to argue with him, not that he would, or should. He knows his place, and so he takes what he is given, does as told, all in the interest of serving his master, his hope. Moans tumble out his lips, a litany of "<em>oh!</em>" and "<em>nng</em>–" all that is able to come. His fingers dig into the fabric of Kamukura's suit jacket, wrinkling it beneath his fingertips as he tries to ground himself. He tries to hold on desperately, staving off his orgasm, but it feels near impossible. The way Kamukura fucks him is addicting, it's maddening; every thrust drives him closer and closer to falling over the edge he's teetering on, feeling cock drive deep, feeling it abuse that spot within him that makes him see stars and clouds his vision. </p><p> </p><p>"Kamukura-sama," Komaeda whines somewhat coherently, though his mind is completely absent, mouth hanging open with a trail of drool down his chin. He sounds far off. "K-Kamukur...<em>ahhnn</em>… please…"</p><p> </p><p>There's no verbal answer, instead he feels Kamukura's lips travel upward again, and his breath ghost along his jawline, before pressing back to his lips with fervor. </p><p> </p><p>His thrusts become quicker, and Komaeda swears in the back of his mind he can feel a moan that's drowned out by their kiss, one that isn't his own, but he's too delirious with pleasure. Enough so that such a detail escapes him. Instead he pulls Kamukura close, back arched as he presses his bare chest against Kamukura's own fully clothed one.</p><p> </p><p>"Pl-please," he whimpers against the other's lips. "I want...I…" </p><p> </p><p>There's no coherency left in him, and so Kamukura elects to bite his lip to silence him. </p><p> </p><p>It's not much longer. With one final slam of his hips, Komaeda can feel a sudden warmth in him. He moans against Kamukura's mouth, and tries to withdraw, but is held there by a hand in his hair. He peeks his eyes open, seeing that same red piercing him. He shudders.</p><p> </p><p>Then there's a tug to his hair, forcing him back. He gasps softly, looking at Kamukura through his lashes.</p><p> </p><p>He seems to be expecting something, so Komaeda searches for his words, licking his lips shakily.</p><p> </p><p>"Sir, please, I…"</p><p> </p><p>Kamukura cocks his head slightly, a slight furrow of his brow. </p><p> </p><p>"C-Can I…?" </p><p> </p><p>Komaeda rolls his hips, much to his own detriment, trying to ride Kamukura's slowly softening cock.</p><p> </p><p>There's a quiet moment of silence, before, <em> finally</em>...</p><p> </p><p>"Go on then."</p><p> </p><p>Komaeda practically cries in relief, reaching down to take his aching cock in lithe fingers. It's pathetically quick. Only a few uneven, sloppy flicks of his wrist and he's coming. A cry breaks off in his throat, shattering to pieces as he finally meets his desperate end, a new stickiness on his abdomen. His face twists up in absolute pleasure, and only a fraction of his mind is able to comprehend that Kamukura pulled him back like this to watch the exact moment he came undone. His unwavering gaze is fixated on his face, as if <em> enjoying </em> it. Aha. Komaeda brushes it off as the delirium of his orgasm, to even consider such a foolish thing. </p><p> </p><p>He practically collapses, his weight on Kamukura, against all better judgement, though he has half the mind to ensure he does not dirty him more than he certainly has by now. He’s quick to remedy this, leaning back despite the way his chest heaves, at a loss for breath, and he meets Kamukura’s eyes, despite all his shame toward himself. </p><p> </p><p>“Kamukura-sama…”</p><p> </p><p>He realizes the other is looking down at the mess he’s been made, rather than returning his gaze. In comparison to him, drool on his chin, lips puffy and abused, red marks turning purple on his exposed neck and collarbone, and wild hair rustled by the way it’s been used as a handle. He can feel the mess on his stomach, and soon will feel it between his thighs.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a mess,” he notes, almost dully, but he still hasn’t looked away. </p><p> </p><p>A wheezy laugh, his voice still hoarse from his obnoxiously loud moaning and crying, and the abuse to his throat.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, I must be disgusting, atop of you like this, seeing as how messy I am. It would be wise of me to leave your sight and clean myself,” Komaeda murmurs, slowly rising off Kamukura’s now soft length with a low whine. As he scrambles up out of his lap with wobbling legs, there’s a sudden tight grip on his wrist.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” the word comes out of Kamukura’s lips slowly, and he blinks, seemingly confused for a split second as to why he’s stopped Komaeda so abruptly, but it’s quickly gone, the same unwavering gaze fixed on him. “You should get clean, but I will accompany you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ahaha...there’s no need for that, Kamukura-sama…”</p><p> </p><p>Kamukura narrows his eyes, before letting out a light scoff, getting up on his feet.</p><p> </p><p>“You can hardly stand. It’s sad to watch,” he says, eyes flicking down to his trembling legs, not a single hint of “sad” emotion hidden in his voice. “I will carry you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah-?”</p><p> </p><p>Before Komaeda can properly protest, he’s in the air, held beneath his knees and back, and Kamukura carries him off.</p><p> </p><p>Komaeda has to wonder when his luck will run out, if Kamukura truly is taking this much pity upon him, treating him so nicely. He wonders if he’s even still alive. Perhaps this is just his desperate afterthought in death, a heaven he created for himself in the comfort of afterlife. It’s difficult to believe Kamukura could truly value him like this, <em> care </em>for him, he dares to think, and indulge him at all…</p><p> </p><p>But here they were. Here he was.</p>
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